


Moving In

by moth2fic



Category: Spooks
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-20
Updated: 2007-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding the right flatmate is a serious matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> I notice that I said I had forgotten I had written this way back when I first posted it! I have no idea whether anyone did any beta work. Moving between computers tends to destroy/bury evidence! It was evidently written mid-season and I fully expected the BBC, who own these characters, to take canon in a different direction.They did, of course. But dreams are pleasant!

Zaf was quite obviously not happy.  
Jo had decided to stick with her current flatmate for now. Which might or might not work out. That was her problem.  
Zaf's problem was the cousin, who was not a polite fiction invented for getting Jo into the spare room. In fact Adnan was not a fiction at all and he was definitely not polite. And nor was Aunt Sayida, who'd been on the phone - interminably- reminding Zaf of family loyalties and the price of accommodation in London.  
So.

Adam, of course, was grief stricken. And coping remarkably well with a small boy and a large house all on his own. He had almost -not quite but almost - decided to take his mother up on her offer to have Wes during the week. It sounded as if he was divorced - weekend access. But nothing could be further from the truth. And he adored his son but childrearing didn't mix well with MI5 even when there were two parents involved and now . . .

The others were watching with interest, sympathy, impatience and the whole range of emotions felt by people who weren't directly involved. Except that they were. With the two major players in black holes of misery, the game was turning sour.

"Zaf," said Harry, "For all our sakes, find a flatmate before Adnan arrives next week. Ask Adam - I'm sure he'd like someone's shoulder to cry on."

"Zaf," said Ruth, Don't you think that as Jo doesn't need you and Adam's so miserable, you could help us all out by looking after him for a bit?"

"Zaf," said Malcolm, speaking on behalf of Colin as well, "Couldn't you and Adam get together and give us one less place to bug, protect, worry about?"

"Zaf," said Jo, "I'm sorry. But what about Adam? I hear he's looking for a place to stay - to get out of his house for a bit till he decides what to do."

But.

Zaf watched Adam mooching around headquarters, scowling at secretaries and pissing people off on the phone. His beautiful face was pale, interesting, and intensely sad. Zaf wanted to wipe the sadness off and paint a smile. There were a lot of other things Zaf wanted to do. To or with Adam. All of them entirely inappropriate.

Some anonymous assistant proffered a cup of tea and Zaf took it unthinkingly. He hated the tea here. Why couldn't they provide decent coffee? Or mint tea? He put it on the desk and went back to watching his favourite subject.

The assistant took a cup of tea to Adam, who took it and tossed it down his throat without comment. Nothing to say, really. It was always awful, and always half cold. Then he glanced at Zaf and sighed.

"I wish I knew what to do," he said.

Zaf refrained from giving advice or ideas. Heroically. Just tried to look empathetic and ready to listen. Not hard. Adam's voice was almost as beautiful as his face. Nobody else seemed to be aware of this, but Zaf knew it was so.

Adam was telling him about the possible childcare arrangements and dithering - Adam dithering! - about the house. How it was too big to deal with, how it reminded him of Fiona every time he walked through the door, how he would rattle around in it without Wes, how he could rent it out but then would have to look for somewhere to live, how he hated being alone . . .

Zaf's brain went into overdrive and he probably missed the last couple of sentences. He started to speak and got so confused and tied up in knots that he had to stop and start again. Adam could rent the house to Adnan, and they could tell Aunt Sayida the price was really good for central London. Then Adam could leave Wes with 'grandma' and move into Zaf's place during the week, visiting his son at weekends when work allowed. Or having him to stay. Somebody could sleep on the couch. It would solve everybody's problems in one fell swoop and even Harry would be pleased. And if Jo had flatmate difficulties, well, she'd had her chance.

Adam stared at Zaf as if he was something rare - a white tiger or a giant panda. Then his face cleared and he half smiled.

"I think you've sorted us all out," he said.

Adam was never one to let the grass grow. By the following evening, Wes was with his doting grandparents, the house was tidy (courtesy of the local branch of Molly Maid) and Adam himself was installed in Zaf's spare room. Zaf was ecstatic but careful to stay calm and friendly. Adam seemed happier than for some days.

They tended to travel together, eat together, and watch the same television programmes. 'The Brief', 'QI' and 'Lost' - all videoed for convenience and played back while they relaxed late in the evening. A week or two of no hassle. Then.

"I feel lost in London," said Adam. "It doesn't take a plane crash and a weird island."

"But they are making friends and developing relationships to sustain them." Zaf enjoyed the series. He got less pleasure from the idea of Adam feeling lost.

"Yeah. Under the circumstances they're doing quite well. I keep wondering if they're going to develop any unusual relationships." Adam had enjoyed the latest episode and was leaning back on the couch, a can of lager on the end table beside him.

"What sort of unusual?" Zaf was cautious.

"Oh, you know. Sawyer and Sayid, for instance. Despite the torture sequence, there seems to be potential there."

"What would you think if they …?"

"Be glad for them? Envy them? Wish I had someone …"

Zaf moved so rapidly to Adam's side that the lager ended up on the carpet. So they fussed for a moment and both offered to get a refill then the apologies and disclaimers petered out.

"You were saying?"  
"You were saying?"

Speaking at the same time was not going to work. Zaf carefully closed his mouth and put a tentative arm around Adam. It was meant to say something along the lines of 'I'm here for you'. He didn't expect the instantaneous hug or the kiss . . .

When they surfaced, Adam was looking shamefaced and nervous.

"I'm sorry, Zaf. I shouldn't have - I didn't mean - I don't know what came over me."

Zaf didn't reply. Just repeated the kiss. Deeper and longer. Sweeter and more confident.

Then it seemed to be time for him to say something. Something to a dazed Adam whose lips were still parted and whose jeans were looking decidedly tight.

"I kind of hoped," he said.

And with that, Adam's face shone with a smile that could have been painted there by Michael Angelo. But that Zaf knew was all his own work.


End file.
